


Bloodlines

by Zoisite Ruby (andadobeslabs)



Series: In Time [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Non-Linear Narrative, Patch 3.0: Heavensward Spoilers, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 17:19:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14573811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andadobeslabs/pseuds/Zoisite%20Ruby
Summary: Of four, two have kept the Warrior of Light's largest secret, and two took it to their graves.A short story of Zoisite's well-hidden pregnancy, the decision she made, and the consequences thereof.(Major Heavensward Spoilers!!!!)





	1. Estinien

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a fic I wrote as sort of context for Zoisite as a character while I was working on Dragonsong and A Familiar Face Forgotten. I wanted to wait until I finished at least of one those to post this! Which has happened! 
> 
> Enjoy!

Estinien finds her near Dragonhead, her pink hair unbound by its usual tie. From behind, he can see she’s stripped down to her underclothes, a camise, and tights. “It appears you’re underdressed for the weather.”

He takes a seat next to her, but significantly farther away from the edge. She ignores him, instead staring down the impossibly deep abyss.

“Your biggest admirer is looking for you as well, though I suppose he may be too naive to find you here.” Estinien chuckles darkly. “Aymeric has always jested that the eye only chooses those with a reckless disregard for ones own safety. You and I are no different in that regard.”

From her shadow, he can see her shrug, but he feels uncomfortable looking directly at her face at such a vulnerable moment. Especially when he is covered.

“‘Tis for the best I found you first, had Alphinaud deduced your plans, his wholly unfounded opinion of you as infallible would crumble.”

She sighs. “I’d really rather be left alone right now.”

“Perhaps,” Estinien’s voice is firm and unwavering, a hint of annoyance as well. “I’d be more inclined to respect said preference if you moved away from the edge.” She shakes her head, and he continues, “When I’m convinced you won’t throw yourself down witchdrop, and you are safe and sound in the city, I will gladly protect the door to your quarters myself to ensure only the utmost privacy.”

“If you’re trying to make me feel better with your sarcasm, it’s not working.”

“I’m not trying to console you. I’m merely protecting my own interests. We still have an archbishop to apprehend.”

Zoisite exhales shakily, her voice uncharacteristically broken. “There’s no point.”

“Right, because the only person in this entire realm you’ve been fighting for, all along, has been Lord Haurchefant.” Estinien groans.

“The realm I’ve tried to protect was so quick to believe that I had murdered a dear friend.” She sniffles again. “He was the only person who knew I was better than that. Who saw me for me, not as the Warrior of Light.”

He’s forming his dismissive response when he looks at her, face raw from tears and the cold wind. But that’s not what stops him, it’s the slightly visible distension of her abdomen. He sighs and grips her bicep with red-stained gauntlets, pulling her to her feet despite her protests.

“You don’t understand! I can’t live without him-“

Continuing to ignore her, he teleports both of them to Fallgourd Float, for both its somewhat remote location and milder climate. When they materialize in front of the aetheryte, he flinches at how red her otherwise pale skin is from the cold. If she managed to escape this without frostbite, he’d be surprised. “Put some clothes on before you start losing limbs.”

She pulls out the coat she’d wear around the city and wraps it around herself, but glares at Estinien as she does so.

“I save you from killing yourself, and I’m the villain here.”

“I don’t know what else to do!”

“You finish this fight we’ve started, you get revenge for his death, and you make Ishgard a better place for all of its people.” He glanced briefly at her stomach. “Both present and future.”

She dissolves into tears at this, collapsing to the ground in an otherwise fairly busy area. Estinien removes his helmet and glares at the Wood Wailers watching the Warrior of Light’s breakdown unfold. “That’s what he said,” she chokes out between sobs. “That we had to stop the archbishop, and save Ishgard for our-“

“He knew.” It makes sense, why he’d throw himself in front of her in the Vault. He knew Haurchefant and Zoisite were fond of each other, but he had no idea the depth of their relationship. “Who else knows about this?”

“Ysayle.” Zoisite continues, “and now you.”

“Here is what we shall do,” Estinien begins explaining his plan. “Let us defeat the archbishop, and when Ishgard is free, we shall find a solution to your other problem.” She nods solemnly. “And if you try something like that again, so help me Halone…”


	2. Alphinaud

Alphinaud is less oblivious than he’s given credit for. He notices the way Zoisite’s behavior changes, though at first, he assumes it’s due to Haurchefant’s death. Her sudden unexplainable closeness with Estinien, someone she had early proclaimed to hate, was surprising as well.

When they finally find Thancred, Alphinaud is surprised she remains in her oversized armor even when not facing the threat of imminent battle. It’s not until Y’shtola eyes her suspiciously that he begins to suspect what is going on.

When everyone else is asleep, Alphinaud can’t help but pace around camp, not sure how he is going to ask her about this. Is it even his place to?

Zoisite sits in front of the fire, jabbing her spear between logs periodically for amusement.

“Zoisite, can I ask you something?”

She turns to look at him. Despite being somewhat difficult to read most of the time, she’s very expressive now. The concerned furrow of her brow, fearful eyes, sad, pursed lower lip. “If you must.”

He’s taken aback by how distant the two of them are, suddenly. Before what happened in the Vault, he thought he and Zoisite were becoming somewhat inseparable. But now, she’s acting like his presence is a nuisance.

“Are you with child?”

She laughs at this. “Did Estinien tell you, or is it just that obvious?”

“You mean,” He stutters awkwardly. “Is Estinien the-“

“Gods, of course not.” Zoisite wrinkles her nose in disgust. “We may be cordial now, but he tried to kill me. More than once!”

“Then, if you don’t mind me asking.” She frowns. “Who is?”

“It doesn’t matter because I’m not keeping it.”

The nonchalant tone in her voice horrifies him. “What-“

“Judge me all you want.” She doesn’t even defend herself. “It may be selfish, but I can’t be a mother. I’m not responsible enough, or safe enough.” She sighs, “and I can’t look at  _his child_ for the rest of my life and remember what could have been if it weren’t for the bloody Heaven’s Ward…”

Alphinaud acknowledges that she’s justifying her decision to herself as much as she is to him. “Did you not tell me because you expected me to judge you harshly?”

Zoisite shrugs. When she turns to look back at the fire, Alphinaud sits down next to her. “Since you already know my secret, do you mind if I take all of this off?”

He nods, though he blushes as she starts removing pieces of armor. Even though she’s covered in sweat from overheating and despite the fact that she’s very clearly pregnant with another man’s child, he can’t help but be reminded of his feelings for the adventurer. Ever since they’d come to Ishgard, he’s found himself admiring her for staying true to herself, rather than his previous impression of her as irrational and impulsive. While many people he met as a fledgling diplomat were undeniably artificial, Zoisite was always unapologetically herself, even when everyone treated her poorly for it.

He can’t help but feel a bit jealous as well. He’s known Zoisite is hardly chaste, but he had never expected she’d been involved with anyone so seriously. While he acknowledged that his feelings for the Warrior were unrequited, he’d also, admittedly, spent many a night contemplating what it would be like for her to be the mother of his children one day.

Perhaps…

“That expression worries me.” Zoisite interrupts, equally amused and concerned.

“What if,” he starts, “I claimed the child to be mine own, and helped-“

Zoisite scoffed. “ _What?_ ” Her eyes were watering now. “Absolutely not!”

“It would-“

“It changes none of my earlier concerns!” She dropped her spear angrily and stood. “Am I supposed to just ignore who his father is?” She glares. “You’ve always seen me as a means to an end in your own plans for yourself and Eorzea. Haurchefant wanted none of that, he just wanted  _me_. You’ll never even  _compare_.”

He holds his breath. Was that really how the adventurer thought of him? After all they’d been through?

“‘m sorry.” He mumbles, both out of guilt and completely unexpected hurt. Why did it feel as if his heart was ripped out of his chest?

She puts her armor back on. “The  _nerve_.”

He follows her a short distance when she storms away from camp, but when hears the very distinct sound of her sobbing, he decides to turn back.

She made it perfectly clear she wanted nothing to do with him, after all.


	3. Ysayle

Ysayle watches Estinien polish his lance with eyes narrowed and a pout. It seems no matter what their travels have revealed, his dragoon instinct outweighed logic and common decency. If he intends to bring a battle to Hraesvelgr, Ysayle will not resist to stop him.

Ysayle would be suspicious of all dragoons if it weren’t for Zoisite, equally in command of Nidhogg’s eye as Estinien but vastly different in temperament. She found a kindred soul in Zoisite, another woman with whom she shared Hydaelyn’s gift, and equally idealistic. Zoisite, like herself, loathes to use force unless necessary, but sometimes lacks the skill with words to avoid it.

Despite her self-proclaimed inadequate social skills, Zoisite has no small share of admirers. Ysayle included, something that Zoisite is continually surprised by, much to Ysayle’s amusement.

_“You what?” Zoisite’s eyes widened. “But you’re so much smarter than I am. I just stab things! You could do a lot better than me!”_

Despite their few quiet nights together, talking about their goals for the realm in whispers and between silent kisses, it was always clear to Ysayle that the dragoon’s affections truly lie elsewhere. She perhaps would not have guessed a highborn knight (who would later rescue Ysayle from the Temple Knights amidst chaos in Ishgard), but she knew she and Zoisite could see their dreams become a reality together, even if they were not  _together_  in the way Ysayle hoped.

Alphinaud’s concerned glance brings Ysayle’s attention to Zoisite’s missing presence. It was rare for their Warrior of Light to disappear, even when night fell. As Estinien teases Alphinaud for his fretting, Ysayle takes it upon herself to track the much-shorter woman down.

She finds Zoisite on her knees, vomiting, her hair covered in sweat and plastered to her forehead.

“Are you quite alright?” Ysayle asks with a hint of amusement in her voice. Zoisite coughs.

“Not really, if I’m being honest.” Zoisite wiped her face with her the skin of her arm. “I can think of a few ways I’d rather die, than of a fever in the Churning Mists…”

Ysayle raised an eyebrow and crouched down next to her, holding the back of her hand up to Zoisite’s forehead. No fever. “How long have you been feeling ill?”

“A few days,” Zoisite tries to recall. “I’ve just felt… off, lately.”

Ysayle felt the familiar tug of the echo pulling at the edges of her consciousness.

_“Thy mother hath gifted unto thee Hraesvelgr’s eye, the last in mankind’s possession. ‘Tis in the same spirit she bid me watch over thee.”_

_A boy, at most 8 summers old, stood before Midgardsormr, eyes wide with fear and awe. Silver hair with a rosy-tint, bright blue eyes, pointed ears and a dusting of freckles across his face._

Shaking off the remains of the vision, Ysayle’s smiles sadly. “That is the way of it, then.”

“What did you see?” Zoisite’s expression turns to fear.

“I saw someone from your future, I believe.”

“So I’m not dying.” Zoisite chuckles, standing. “That is good to know.”

“I saw your son.” Ysayle doesn’t bother sugar coating the news, somewhat surprised by the shocked but otherwise neutral look on Zoisite’s face as the realization dawns on her.

“Really?” Zoisite brushes her hair out of her face. “This is… inconvenient timing, to say the least.”

“No one would fault you if you preferred to take a break-”

Zoisite shakes her head. “I can hardly let Nidhogg level Ishgard.”

“You intend to fight Nidhogg in your condition?”

“I don’t see another option.” Zoisite shrugs. “I would prefer if you kept this secret between us, for now.”

“Of course.” Ysayle watches as Zoisite slowly put her armor back on, silent in thought. What was going through Zoisite’s head? Fear?

The dragoon simply saunters off in the direction of camp, a skip in her step that was not present the day before.

Ysayle smiles after her. Perhaps something good may come from this war after all.


	4. Artoirel

Artoirel opens his mouth and promptly closes it again, staring at the young man in front of him.

“Father, this is-” his daughter begins to introduce him before Artoirel interrupts.

Artoirel steps forward, studying him. “I’m aware.”

“I, ah. I don’t know what to say. My name is Feldspar.” Feldspar looks up at his uncle, eyes giving away his nervousness.

“Feldspar,” Artoirel repeats. He looks so much like Haurchefant, from his bright blue eyes to his angular features. Holding out his hand, “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

Feldspar shakes Artoirel’s hand back, a bit weakly. “I’m sorry about your brother.”

He’s short like Zoisite, and certainly looks more midlander than elezen, just like Artoirel’s wife. Artoirel smiles sadly, “I wish you were able to know him.”

“I do too.” Feldspar takes back his hand and holds it protectively to his chest.

“Had I known you were out there-” Artoirel starts, but Feldspar shakes his head.

“Zoisite had no right to keep my existence a secret, least of all from my father’s family,” Feldspar mutters, and Artoirel is taken aback by his hostility.

“I am sure she had her reasons. You cannot judge your mother too harshly, she has been through-”

“She is  _not_  my mother.” Feldspar sighs. “I would rather not discuss  _her_ , if at all possible.”

“Of course.” Artoirel nods. “Where have you been living? What have you been doing? I feel as if there is so much I do not know.”

“Tailfeather, in Dravania. I’ve been a healer and mender.” Feldspar explains. “Can I-”

Artoirel pulls Feldspar into a hug, not letting him finish his thought. Feldspar stiffens at first, but after a few moments, he slumps against his uncle’s chest, sighing deeply. “Now that we’ve met, I will be loathe to let you escape my grasp again.”

Feldspar chuckles. “I don’t intend on leaving anytime soon.”


	5. Haurchefant

“Haurchefant…” Zoisite calls after him, determination otherwise distracting him. They’ve hardly had a moment to talk since she’s returned. “I need to tell you something before we do this.”

Haurchefant pauses, whipping around to look at Zoisite. “Yes, my friend?”

“I’m…” She has imagined how she would say this for days, but now that Zoisite is standing in front of him, she struggles to recall her long-winded speech prepared for this occasion. “I’m pregnant. With your son.”

She flinches, not sure she’s prepared for his response. After a few moments of silence, she looks up at his face, surprised to find his eyes wide and his hand covering his mouth.

“Are you angry?” Zoisite asks a bit fearfully. Haurchefant moves his hand away, revealing a grin.

“Are you quite certain?”

“I haven’t been to a chirurgeon yet, but yes.”

Haurchefant wastes no time lifting Zoisite up and kissing her on the cheek, despite her feet dangling in protest. “This may be the best news you could have given me.” He sets her back down again, eyes starting to water. “And you have already informed me Nidhogg has been defeated!”

“I’m glad I could be of service then.” Zoisite laughs, her own eyes full of tears.

“I am not sure that I have been this happy in my entire life.” He wipes his eyes and Zoisite whines.

“You can’t cry! You’re making me cry!”

“But I am so delighted!” Haurchefant cups her face in his hand. “When you saved my dear friend Francel, I was certain you would be special to me. I could not have anticipated exactly how special until this day.”

“You’re special to me too, Haurchefant.” Zoisite places a hand atop his and smiles at him through the tears. “More than you realize. When I found out… the idea of starting a family with you kept me moving forward. Through the Aery, and now hopefully the Vault.”

“Indeed. We shall fight for a better Ishgard, then. For our son.” He bends forward and presses his lips to Zoisite’s. “And for you, my future wife, if you shall have me.”

“Are you asking?” Zoisite grins.

“Do not tease me so.” He pouts. “Do you accept my proposal?” Haurchefant looks down at her hopefully, and she cannot even fathom disappointing him. Not that she would want to.

She nods, and he kisses her again, the second time with more resolve. She would be his  _wife_. They would have a  _son_  together. She had never even allowed herself to dream of this kind of future, and now she’s living it. “Our happy ending must wait, unfortunately. We still need to rescue Ser Aymeric. And tell everyone the truth about the war…”

“I am not concerned. As always,” Haurchefant hums, “I have the utmost faith in you.”


End file.
